Complete Indelible Love Series

by Cee, DW

  “Hello?” she answered in her usual hurried fashion.

  “Hey. It’s me.” I spoke in my knowing fashion.

  “Me? Me, who?” Seriously?

  “Me.” I wasn’t about to give her an inch. How dare she forget my voice? We’d only talked since we were toddlers.

  “I dunno who ‘ME’ is. Who is this?”

  Loudly, I sighed to express my annoyance. She had to recognize the sigh. “It’s ME!” The louder, stressed voice was a dead giveaway.

  “OK, ‘ME,’ I’m sick of your stupid game. Call me when you get a name.” She hung up! My best friend since babyhood didn’t recognize my voice and hung up the line.

  Women and me—damned, I tell you. Damned!

  Chloe: “Magic” Friend

  “Who was that?” Brendan asked.

  “Who the hell knows? It was someone who kept calling himself, ‘Me.’”

  “The guy wouldn’t give you his name?”

  “How’d you know it was a guy?”

  Brendan gave me an “are you serious?” kinda look. “I’m spooning you on the couch—and in serious pain, I might add—and you ask me how I knew? I’m centimeters from your delectable ear.”

  “You make everything sound so nefarious, Brendan. We’re on the couch watching TV.”

  “You are on the couch watching a movie. I am nuzzling your neck, trying to get up the nerve to do something about this painful hard on.” Brendan was funny just about all the time. “So now you’re laughing at me?” I was. “Thanks,” he kidded. “There goes the boner. It’s as hard as a raisin, now.”

  “The size of one, too?”

  “Oh, is that how you’re going to be?” He tickled me from behind in an all-out attack. No one gave this guy the memo that I hated being tickled. That was my Achilles heel. To combat his fingers, I squirmed to a point where I fell off the sofa, onto the hard ground, head first.

  “Ow!” I complained between giggles. “I’m no longer calling you Magic Mike. Instead, your new name is Mean Mike.”

  “Who is Magic Mike?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! Magic Mike? Channing Tatum? The most awesome stripper movie ever to show on a respectable big screen?”

  “Are we talking porn?”

  I was still on the floor, now in a fit of guffaw.

  “Not porn! Turn off this BBC documentary and stream the movie.”

  “OK…” he didn’t sound convinced. “Is watching this movie going to make it harder for me?” Delicious! That’s what I’d call his mischievous glint.

  “Only if you like beefy men,” I answered with my own sass.

  “Raisin.” He answered looking down at what I assumed was more than several raisins combined. Shit. I did not need to be thinking of his raisin(s) while watching a movie where the man laying behind me closely resembled the man on the screen in front of me.

  “Start the movie,” I admonished.

  Brendan pushed himself into the couch and padded the empty space in front of him. I was to resume my original position.

  “Hey,” Brendan called once I got comfortable. “I’m supposed to travel to New York next week for about ten days.”

  Shoot! Brendan had been home for the past few weeks, and it was nice getting to know one another. We were still more friends than lovers, but this slow progression suited me fine.

  “Is there more to this?” I tried to sound unaffected.

  “Yeah. I thought if you weren’t busy, you might come with me for a few days? Ideally, it’d be perfect if you stayed the entire time but I know you have a life in London you can’t ignore.”

  I thought about what he’d said and pursed my lips without meaning to do it. If I traveled to New York with him, where would I stay? We weren’t close enough to share a room, though we were technically roommates. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to share two double beds. And what would I do when Brendan was off to work? As much as I loved New York, there were only so many museums and brunches I wanted to do on my own. Perhaps I could work, too?

  “Can I think about it?” was the safest answer I could muster.

  I could feel Brendan chuckling behind me. “The wheels are turning so fast the mouse has to jump off to save his life.”

  “What?”

  “I can hear your wheels spinning. Just a guess but I’m sure that brilliant mind of yours was wondering where you’d sleep, what you’d do while I was at work, and how you’d work while in New York?” Damn. Was I that much of an open book? He pulled me closer into his body and whispered, “I’ll get you your own room if it makes your decision to come to New York easier. As you know, I go into work at ungodly hours so I’ll be back by the time you’re up and done with your first cup of coffee. And if you must, you can work and I’ll be your assistant.”

  “Well if that’s the offer on the table, yes, I’m in. I only need to talk to Grandpa Harry and make sure he doesn’t need me next week. Let me call him.”

  “Wasn’t he the one who interrupted us the last time?” Brendan asked dubiously.

  “Yeah, but I know for a fact that he’s meeting his group of uni friends in Switzerland this upcoming week. They’ve met once a year for the past six decades. It’s rare any one of them misses this event.”

  “Fabulous. Call him.”

  I dialed His Grace’s number and a strangely familiar voice picked up.

  “Finally! You figured out it was me and are calling me back?”

  “What the hell? Who is this?”

  “Are you kidding me, Chloe Darcy? It’s ME, Michael Bennington! How the hell could you forget my voice?”

  Ah! The mysterious “ME” was none other than Michael. Inwardly, I gloated at the unintentional snub. Not only did I not recognize him, but I also hung up on the future duke. Most likely, he seethed outwardly and threw a tantrum inwardly.

  This situation was too juicy to let go. I needed to fan his flames. “How could I not forget your voice when I hadn’t heard it since last spring? What was that, like a year ago?”

  “Let’s not exaggerate. We just saw each other in Florence, Chloe.”

  “At least I only forgot your voice. Heaven forbid I forget to pick you up from the airport or something.” I was not ever going to let Michael Bennington forget what he’d done to me.

  Michael sighed. “I did try and apologize last time I saw you.”

  “Did you, now…” I wasn’t about to give Michael even a centimeter.

  “Forget it. Let’s talk about that when we meet.”

  I wasn’t planning on meeting Michael any time soon! “Why are you answering His Grace’s phone?” My friend was about to answer when I cut him off. “Never mind that, can you put Grandpa Harry on the line?”

  “He’s not available.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Out.”

  “What do you mean, ‘out?’ Where could he be at this hour? It’s late. He’s old. He shouldn’t be out this late. What if he catches a cold? What if he falls? Why aren’t you out with him?”

  Michael stopped me before I rambled any further. “He left for his reunion early.”

  “Oh.” My relief was huge. I didn’t like not knowing where Grandpa Harry was at this hour.

  “If you’d been here with him, as his assistant, rather than wherever the hell you are, you’d know.” That was a low blow; I felt guilty.

  “Why didn’t His Grace tell me?”

  “One of his cronies called him unexpectedly and convinced him to leave with him tonight. In his rush, he forgot his cell phone, among other things. I’m expecting a call very soon.”

  “OK. It always makes me happy when I witness your grandfather hanging out with his uni buddies. He behaves like an eighteen-year-old.”

  I knew Michael was smiling with me. “I think he gains ten years after he comes back from his reunion every year.”

  “Hey. I think Gramps is on the other line. Hold on…”

  It was when sof
t lips touched my shoulder that I remembered the man laying behind me. “Hey,” I whispered. “Sorry. I didn’t think this would take so long.”

  “I take it the duke is with his buds?”

  “Yeah. He left earlier than expected and left his phone.”

  “Shall I put Magic Mike on hold?”

  “No way! We are watching the entire film tonight.”

  “What are we watching tonight?” Michael asked.

  “Can we do something else, tonight?” Brendan asked at the same time.

  “What?” Michael was now annoyed. “Who’s that?”

  I ignored both questions. “Was that Grandpa Harry?”

  “Yeah. He couldn’t remember any of our phone numbers, so he called his own cell assuming I’d pick up.”

  “Now we know why he’s still the duke and not your father.”

  Michael chuckled. “I have strict instructions for you to bring a long list of items to Switzerland—tomorrow!”

  “Tomorrow? Switzerland?”

  “That’s what he said. I’m off to Paris tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift on Grandpa’s plane.”

  “Um…OK…”

  “Finneas will be at your door at five a.m.?”

  “In the morning?”

  “That’s usually what a.m. means.”

  “Why so early?”

  “The plane is set to leave at seven. I assume it’ll take you some time to round up everything your employer wants. Send me your address and see you bright and early.”

  “Asshole.” I said aloud.

  “What’s wrong now?”

  “The duke wants me to personally deliver a bunch of items to Switzerland.”

  “I assume you weren’t swearing at the duke?”

  “Michael.”

  “Does this mean I’m losing you to the Benningtons, again?”

  I thought about it briefly. “I don’t think so. I’ll do everything the duke asks of me, and I should be able to fly into New York by Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Once the festivities begin, no one but the uni friends are allowed to participate. They will all ask me to leave.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.” I got up from our comfy position. “But, I do need to take a rain check on movie night. I’m told Finneas is coming for me at five in the morning. I need to pack for who knows how many days.”

  “Asshole!” Brendan reiterated my sentiment. “Michael. Not Finneas.”

  A very unladylike snort escaped me. “Good night and see you in New York?”

  “Good night and I hope I’ll see you in New York.”

  Thanks to Michael and the duke, my dreamy Magic Mike could only appear in my dreams.

  Michael: Came-back-to-me Friend

  “Hello?” I called out to a not-so-happy woman who breezed into the house without a greeting.

  “Huhn,” or something similar to that was Chloe’s response.

  “A cup of coffee? I had Addie bake a lemon pudding cake for you. Can I bring you a slice with your coffee?”

  “Huhn,” I assumed was a yes.

  When I walked in the kitchen, Addie had breakfast for two already prepared and on Chloe’s favorite tray. “You’re the best, Addie. When I get married, I want you to leave my parents and come live with me.”

  “You’ll double my wages?” she asked with a grandmotherly grin.

  “Triple!”

  “Damn, I better get that in writing,” she giggled and shooed me away. “Now off you go. I need to prepare for a dinner party your mum is having this evening.”

  “I love you Addie.” I kissed her cheek and headed for the grumpy woman upstairs.

  Chloe completely ignored me, but I knew she couldn’t ignore the smell of her favorite coffee and cake. I had called her favorite coffee shop this morning and had them deliver fresh whole beans. I could feel her movements slowing with the pouring of fresh coffee and the waft of lemon-scented cake.

  “Damn you, Michael Bennington. I’m on a slimming regiment. Why do you have to tempt me?”

  “What the hell is a slimming regiment?”

  “A damn diet. I’ve been running six miles a day and staying away from sugar.”

  “What the hell for? What’s wrong with the way you look?”

  “Different from most British women, my tits and ass are too large for my height.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that!”

  She looked up from her bite of cake. “Why? Because you agree with me but can’t say it aloud, or because you disagree? Be specific.”

  Who was this woman standing in front of me? Someone had replaced my sweet, gentle friend with a cynical, snarky, mouthy one. Though, Chloe had a damn fine mouth if one were looking at it in a not-so innocent way. Shit. Where did that come from? Since I’d left my teenage years, I hadn’t thought of this woman in any sexual way.

  “You’re looking at me like I’m a freak. Talk, Michael.”

  “I’ll plead the fifth as the Americans would say. What I will say is that I think you look fine. Jane Reid thought you looked like Michelle Dockery from Downton Abbey.”

  “Americans think we all look like some famous British star. Who did she think you looked like? Robert Pattinson?”

  “I do not look like that Twilight guy. I think I’m more along the lines of Jamie Dornan.” The friend sitting across from me snorted. “What? Henry Cavill?”

  “More Harry Potter than Christian Grey if you ask me.”

  “You take that back, Chloe Noel Darcy! I do not look like a scarred wizard.”

  Chloe choked on her coffee and laughed and laughed. “All right. I’ll be honest. When you let your hair grow out, you look a lot like Kit Harrington from Game of Thrones.”

  “Better, but I still think my pairings are more realistic.”

  “Whatever, Your Grace.”

  A relaxed and jesting Chloe was a treat. There was no question in my mind that I’d wronged her. I’d take her smiling face as an opening to correct my ways.

  “Before we get going, I want to apologize.” I took her hand in mine so she couldn’t run away. “We have too many years between us for me to have treated you so poorly. Yes, I was an arse for forgetting you at Heathrow. Yes, I was an even bigger idiot for not apologizing immediately. And yes, I bumbled our meeting in Florence, badly. If I could do it all over again, I would have forced you on the plane with us—something I told you to do from the start—and not have met Laney Reid. Will you forgive me?”

  In a gesture of acceptance, she placed her free hand on top of ours. “What happened with Laney Reid? How’d the situation change so quickly and drastically?”

  “How about we get on the plane, and I’ll tell you about Laney and all that’s happened since we last conversed back in May.”

  I’d missed the comforts of an old friend as Chloe and I chatted about our families. Our friendship was like shelter from the rain, a king-sized bed after a long day of manual labor, a bright, clear, sunny day after weeks of gloom. How was I able to sustain myself without the warmth of our relationship?

  “So?” By the antsy tone, I knew what she wanted to hear.

  “Laney Reid is a beautiful, kind, funny, whip-smart, outspoken woman who decided to marry her childhood love.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  My grin wasn’t answer enough and her scowl was plenty daunting. “I fell in love at first sight and she returned my sentiment, or so I thought.”

  “Stop beating around the damn bush as the Americans would say. Spill it—ALL!”

  “I pursued Laney hard the moment I met her. She was staying a stone’s throw from the Belgravia house and I thought I had enough love for the both of us.”

  “So she didn’t share your sentiment?”

  “She did, to a degree. From the start, she was honest about her feelings and I knew going in, that I had my work cut out for me. What I misunderstood, or chose to misunderstand, was
her deep-rooted love for her now-husband, Donovan Taylor. In the end, no matter the amount of love I lavished upon her, it wasn’t enough. Once he showed up, I was yesterday’s burnt toast.”